


0 joy ride: start it up.

by theAsh0



Series: Joyride [1]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Black Widow (Movie 2020), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Fight Sex, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Torture, Morally Ambiguous Character, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Red Room (Marvel), Rough Sex, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAsh0/pseuds/theAsh0
Summary: Natalia is at his door at four thirty in the morning. And he’d been expecting her; chose a private room because of this. Still, She’s half-way in before he catches her, with how neatly she had disguised her movements as early room-service.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Series: Joyride [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479119
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	0 joy ride: start it up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> So, this is the original, very first part I wrote for this series. Then tore down and hid and redid like 20 times. Now, it’s 3 parts. And this, the first part is going to be like a prologue. The rest is going to end up somewhere in part 3: lying or, honestly, Lying might still be cut in 2, as it might be a bit much. But soon, somewhere around where I'm writing now!
> 
> ps, this may seem like Nat hate. it's not. I love Natashia Romanov dearly and that will become clear later. I hope.

**March 9th, 2018**

Natalia is at his door at four thirty in the morning. And he’d been expecting her; chose a private room because of this. Still, She’s half-way in before he catches her, with how neatly she had disguised her movements as early room-service. Or, perhaps James -or Bucky, for those that prefer- is a little less sharp, these days. A little less vigilant and relying too strongly on his new arm; the vibranium one with all it’s modern senses. Perhaps he has become complacent in his untouchability.

At least he catches her off guard as well, when he slips out of the shadows by the door. Into her space and over her, his body like a second door; one only slightly ajar. Something she’ll need to get her hands on to move and pass. A second barrier within the doorframe she’s only just overcome with her little lockpicks. Natalia hesitates, glances down at his chest, in the dark. And he wonders what she sees. Her eyes are probably not as good as his. But, she will know he is without a shirt from the way his bulk reflects in the dark; from the way the smell of sweat weaves up without a layer of fabric to slow it. 

Perhaps this is where she stops. Where she  _ thinks  _ about what she’s doing. Walking into the lion’s den without a plan. Perhaps this is where her reason kicks in. Where she comes to her senses and beats a hasty retreat. 

Well, James cannot have that. 

So he goads her. Asks her, in his nicest, most pleasant tone “can I help you,” then adds for good measure, “ma’am?”

And she takes the hook; line and sinker. Pushes him inside angrily, a flat palm to his chest. Her long nails catch slightly when she slides over his moist skin. Carelessness, incapable of doing him any real damage. James breathes her in; the smell of Natalia disguised under thick perfume and enough hair product to make him want to sneeze. Yet,  _ she  _ is still there: anger, a hint of excitement and the anticipation. Under it, something else.. Something he will, for now at least, not name. Out of courtesy perhaps. Or, out of cowardice.

She stamps into his empty hotel room with disregarding, brazen, blustering rage; goes as far as to stand with her back to him for at least two seconds before turning in the unlit room, voice accusatory and eyes flashing. “You just can't leave it alone, can you?”

James taps his vibranium fingers against the door, a quick glance at the hallway. Left, right. All is quiet. The entire building is fast asleep. Though, that may not last. Old, cement walls will not insulate against sound much. A building pre-dating the revolution, yet hardly better made than what the soviets put up to house their proletariat. The others may be on the far side of the building, but the sniper at least should have enough instincts to know when shit goes down.. 

Not that James cares. “Why don’t you come in.” he quips, slowly closing the door. 

“Fuck you, Yasha,” she bites at him, to which he just grunts. Natalia, or Natasha as she apparently prefers now, is in her full ‘battle gear’; dark close-fitting bodysuit that looks like leather, but isn’t. Which suits the occasion, he supposes. She has come here for war. 

But it also shows her hand; courtesy of her rash, reckless demeanor. The core of her being, laid bare again. Despite the years; despite decades of experience as an operative, she acts like a rookie when she gets emotional. She  _ still _ acts like a child when she lets her heart rule her. James cannot help but wonder, will she ever truly mature? 

James however? He has been expecting her. Got all ready for her; thought of her for hours, on his bed naked and sweating and.. Well, she’s lucky he opted to put his underwear back on. Though, had he not, that might have clocked her in; shocked her back into reality and pushed her to back away from this foolishness. James doesn’t know what she is thinking. Doesn’t understand why she would allow herself to be this compromised. She shouldn’t come to him, so ill prepared. Weak, angry and foolish. Shouldn’t come onto his turf, on his terms. This will hardly be a battle at all. 

Perhaps Natalia is aware; for, she’s agitated; pacing back and forth in his room, around the bed and back. Muttering words, under her breath. From an English “I should have known.” to Russian cusses, the kindest of which translate to slut and traitor.

Well. He supposes he should try and sympathize; because they do have a history together. And, he supposes he’s disregarded her, until now. He’d just about forgotten about her, hadn’t he? And he used to be quite fond of her. Not just of her, of course. But of all the girls, like her. What they represent; what they sacrificed to make a better, socialist world. They really gave their all. Their souls, their lives, their dreams. While the old USSR burned through them like little matchsticks.

She’s still at it, even now. Isn’t she? The last of the flock. Saving the world. Pulling down Hydra, following Steve Rogers when he’d gone on those foolish quests. Then, into exile. It’s adorable. It’s pathetic. It’s time to pull her out of her own head.“Talking to yourself now, little spider?” 

She laughs, mirthlessly and real, makes a gesture like throwing something; a piece of trash, a something she never wanted or cared for, and thrusts out one hip to prop that still-empty hand on. “So, what’s happening,  _ James? _ Making friends?” 

Oh,  _ yes _ . James can feel his eyes dilate. Yet he doesn’t care that she can read his all-teeth smile. “What can I say? I’m a  _ likable _ guy.”

Vitriol, spitting and angry. A finger prodded at his chest. “Fuck you; I told you to stay away from Wanda. I warned you not to touch…” Nails accentuating like little pin-pricks, her body tilted up to meet him. Trying, and failing to tower over him. He nearly laughs at the display. At her eagerness to lose her cool, to relinquish any semblance of control; of advantage.

Instead, he bites back. “Well, haven’t  _ touched _ her, have I?” Which is.. mostly true. And tonight might have been a chance to change that. He might have tried with the pair of them, tonight. Bunk together and wait for that to lower their guard, and… “She’s not even my speed really. The other one perhaps…”

Natalia freezes in place. Turns away to breathe, once. Twice. So easy to read, now. When he knows she can be magnificent. It’s hardly a challenge; James had known he’d get her with that. And yet, she seems adamant not to acknowledge her weakness. Or, this other weakness, right now.

When she turns back to him, she has enough control for an attack; a clumsy, obvious one. And he reels her in further: steps back when she corners him; slouches a litte against the wall when she takes up a threatening battle stance. She, despite her training, doesn't even notice: “Who  _ else? _ ”

Teeth bared, breathing her in. The smell of her skin, nearly glowing in the dark. The taste of her hair, red and shining with fixative. “Now, now. Don’t be like that ‘Talia. I haven’t hurt anyone. I told you, I’m playing nice.”

She returns the grin; like a dare. Like a bet. Doubles it; raises the stakes, to all-in; eyes flashing, jaws snapping. “Nice? You’re fucking  _ poison _ . You touch them;  _ any _ of them. I. will. kill. you.”

James brings a careful hand up; his flesh hand, using the back to caress her cheek. “You must be confused.” He breathes, mere inches above her neck. “ _ You  _ are the black widow spider here.  _ You’re _ the one that poisons its lovers.” 

A shove, hard and mean, where there is no give, no way to go. He absorbs, best he can, without taking the flimsy hotel wall behind him down. Her fists scratch, her hands pound into him. Once, twice. “ _You think you’re better than me?_ ” Impotent fingers scratching at his neck, searching for purchase where there is none. “How _dare_ you! We are the same, you and I _!_ ” 

“What do you know anyway, traitor?” If his teeth no longer have any semblance of a friendly smile, so be it. This game is no longer fun. It is personal now, and James will not stand for this slander. “At least I did not turn my back on the USSR..”

“Didn’t get the _ chance _ to stick it to them you mean,” she snarks, shakes her hand with an upturned eyebrow. Then, in the first unpredicted move of the evening, Natalia turns around and saunters back to stand next to the bed, thrusts her fists against her hips as she frowns his way. “Enough of this.  _ Who else _ ?” 

A trap, perhaps. He would expect it, wish for it, with how sloppy she has been up until now. But, his plan, of course, is to walk right into whatever vice she throws at him. Step right into every bear-claw, stick his neck through every noose. Stare down at her from so close she could bite his face off, if she felt so inclined. “Now, don’t you worry. I’m not killing for  _ them _ again. But I’m still a lover, and still a fixer. I will make them better.”

Then open his mouth, too wide for anything else than the sloppiest kiss, lick her lips and her teeth until she melts. Like he knows she will.

She laughs right back down his throat. “You?  _ Fix? _ What have you  _ ever _ fixed.”

_ “Stark.”  _

It’s always too easy. Even with her, while she should know better. While he’s taught her every trick he’s using right now. Roving hands, careful at first; offering too little until she turns frustrated; starts wishing for more. All the things she should be wary of, but takes instead. While it’s been her bread and butter for so long.

_ “Steve...”  _

But James supposes it comes natural to him. Because he might have been an excellent sniper; amazing at hand-to-hand.. He may have been pretty much his own one-man army. But that’s all taught skills. Things he had to learn to live. But flirting? He’d always loved it, and all the Red Room had to do was hone and smooth those skills. Taking a whiff or her smell is his nature, speaking so close his breath goes down her throat an instinct.

_ “You..” And her, y _ es; though he will not name _ her  _ here. 

“Me?” Natalia’s voice jumps, scandalized. “You _ made _ me alright. Made me a monster, like you..”

And, James knows it’s rude. He  _ knows _ it’s bad for the mood. But, he cannot help it. He shorts at her. Manages to keep it at that; manages not to say: we are nothing alike. You are but a copy of a copy. A frayed image. A last edition, claiming to be the entire works from the master, while only carrying teenage driffel.

“Tell me who else!” tone hard, right over that sound. Ignoring it. Forgiving it. Continuing this game that she has already lost. 

So it’s just a small smile to her glare, a relaxed shrug to her tense shoulders, and he lets her cross the line: “sorry, you’ve yet to reach the clearance level for those files. You see, you, ‘Tashia, are no friend of mine.”

She glares, eyes to slits, as she considers. Then a push to the side, to which he is happy to acquiescence, setting his ass down on the bed when his knees hit the mattress. “ _ Fine. _ Sit down. You like that best, don’t you..?” 

He shrugs, looking up wide-eyed in imitation of innocence. “I guess Yasha does.” And he did; used to. Though sit, stand, or lie down; it’s all the same to him by now. It all runs together, no one thing better or worse than the other.

If she was steaming before, she’s molten lava now. “Have it your way.” She pushes her lips against his aggressively. Rides against him, knees progressing until they’re on either side of him. Her on her knees, looking down proudly, bated breath as he longingly returns her stare. Natalia doesn’t even bother with a decent show, shrugging out of her jacket. Then, she is on him. She digs her fingernails into his shoulders, leaving temporary scratches on the right, yet incapable of even that much on his left; vibranium near-impenetrable. She bumps her head against him, near clumsy. Pushes him backward on the bed until he reclines. And she’s all wild hair and sharp teeth and he’s just going to have to repeat his own little mantra.

_ Don’t laugh, don’t fucking laugh at her. If you laugh now, she’s going to come to her senses. _

Or she might, at least. She’s in such an angry sex mode, even that might just egg her on. But he’s not going to risk it. Does she understand what his plan is? If she did would she still be capable of changing her mind? Intrigued, he asks: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Natalia frowns down, her face showing more expression than he’s ever seen on her; increasing the distance between them as she sits up. “You will show me. Show me who else;  _ where is the list?”  _

And James realises, he’s sorely underestimated Natalia Romanov.

  
  



End file.
